


The List of Big Rules

by kafrickinboom



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampires Are Known, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Coming Untouched, Emotional Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Feeding, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Titles, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Literally only in how vampires look, M/M, Minor Violence, Petty Katsuki Yuuri, Punishment, Smut, Vampire Victor Nikiforov, Vampire Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri Plisetsky Mentioned - Freeform, everything else is a mishmash of random vampire lore and some stuff i made up, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafrickinboom/pseuds/kafrickinboom
Summary: He’s over 250 years old. Old enough to have better control. Old enough to know better. Old enough to stop himself from marring that fair skin in the absolute best way possible, even if he wants it. He’d pulled his fangs out almost as soon as they pierced Yuuri’s skin, unable to meet his husband’s eyes and began apologizing profusely until Yuuri turned away from him, going to sleep. That still stings too....Or it could be the fact that he left for his trip without doing any of the frankly alarming amount of dishes he let pile up. Big Rule #4 is ‘Contribute to the House Chores.’ He isn’t sure. He’s just going to assume the level of bullshit he’s been dealing with is due to the biting thing. It just makes logical sense considering it’s the worse offense.He had to make it right.---Or: Yuuri's pissed at Viktor, is a little shit, and punishes Viktor the only way he knows how - by being petty.





	The List of Big Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was based off of a tumblr post by iseeavoice/galaba/therainbowgorilla (if someone could link me to it so I could post the link here, that would be *amazing*) about a human getting pissed at their vampire boyfriend (re: husband here) and doing a bunch of petty shit.
> 
> Started out silly, ended up sweet and filled with emotion. I can't do straight up humor to save my life.

Viktor can’t believe Yuuri’s acting like this. Okay,  _ maybe _ he believes it. He broke one of the Big Rules during one of their sexy times, but he didn’t mean to! Look at that long, beautiful, biteable neck and tell him you wouldn’t want to sink your teeth into it too.

Oh wait, did he mention he’s a vampire? The temptation to bite was always tenfold for our fanged friends.

Anyway, Yuuri knew  _ exactly _ what he was doing arching his neck back like that, teasing and tempting Viktor’s instincts so much that he snapped and marked him where Yuuri couldn’t cover it. That’s Rule #3 on the List of Big Rules right behind the basics- ‘No Lying’ and ‘No Cheating.’ It was added after the first time Viktor really sunk his teeth in a bit too high, about five years now, and all of their friends and family teased them  _ endlessly _ for it until it healed. Even though the cherry blossom pink of Yuuri’s cheeks was fucking adorable, Yuuri had been mortified and immediately threw up a ‘no touchy’ sign on his divine neck.

Viktor had offered Yuuri blood to heal it afterward, but it was declined. Yuuri was okay being a human for a little while longer, and he didn’t want to risk anything by drinking Viktor’s blood. Viktor likes to pretend it doesn’t sting that after almost five years later, Yuuri still hasn’t brought up the issue again.

Anyway, Yuuri doesn’t like everyone prying into their romantic and sexual lives, and he doesn’t like turtlenecks, dickies and scarves. Actually, come to think of it, Yuuri doesn’t like anything on his neck, which is a pain in the ass, really. Viktor loves that creamy skin, and he loves watching the  _ thump thump _ of his pulse dancing along those long lines, and really- he’s a  _ vampire. _ Of  _ course _ he wants to sink his teeth and fangs into that flesh, of  _ course _ he’s a touch possessive, and maybe he likes the idea of having a more prominent permanent mark there were everyone could see that Yuuri is claimed. Sue him.

Also, when he did it, he was  _ hungry. _ Yuuri knew he hadn’t had blood in almost a week due to a hectic schedule and traveling issues. The area he’d traveled to still wasn’t hip to vampires, and had a strict ‘no feeding within corporation limits’ policy, so he couldn’t just grab a blood bag and be done with it. Both of his flights- the initial return  _ and _ the connecting flight- had gotten delayed. Most airports don’t offer blood bags still, so he was screwed. He had to wait until he got home to feed, and though Yuuri had let him take from his inner thigh (arguably his favorite place to mark up), he was still hungry and horny as hell when he came up for another kiss. 

It was nothing to trail those kisses from those plush lips, skating over Yuuri’s jawline and to his neck as their hips ground together. Then, Yuuri tilted his head to the side as if in invitation, and Viktor’s impulses got the best of him, his fangs dipping into Yuuri’s neck without a second thought. Really, it was  _ both _ of their faults.

Still, Viktor’s sure he has no leg to stand on considering he’s over 250 years old. Old enough to have better control. Old enough to know better. Old enough to stop himself from marring that fair skin in the absolute best way possible, even if  _ he _ wants it. He’s made more than a few consent mistakes in the past (being born in 1764, there was a much different standard for what was considered ‘right’ and ‘consensual’ back then, he recalls with a cringe). He’d pulled his fangs out almost as soon as they pierced Yuuri’s skin, unable to meet his husband’s eyes and began apologizing profusely until Yuuri turned away from him, going to sleep.  _ That _ still stings too. 

...Or it could be the fact that he left for his trip without doing any of the frankly alarming amount of dishes he let pile up. Big Rule  _ #4 _ is ‘Contribute to the House Chores.’ He isn’t sure. He’s just going to assume the level of bullshit he’s been dealing with is due to the biting thing. It just makes logical sense considering it’s the worse offense.

He had to make it right.

\---

Presently, Yuuri is being an asshole. 

After a day to cool down, Viktor’s spent the last  _ three _ days apologizing and begging forgiveness multiple times in multiple languages in multiple ways to no avail. Made Yuuri’s favorite dish (as best he could under Mama Katsuki’s guidance), bought Yuuri’s favorite flowers (the gardenia scent of the house was wonderful for the hour they were in the house before Yuuri ‘absentmindedly’ threw them away), bought Yuuri’s favorite chocolates, made Yuuri an apology card, even serenaded Yuuri with some song called “I Was Wrong” (he’s been told his voice is heavenly regardless of Yuuri’s upturned nose, thank you very much).

Back to the present, five days after The Incident. Here they are at the city fair. Viktor was thinking that maybe a date would help. It’s edging into the autumn months, so a scarf is a fashion choice that wouldn’t garner staring, so Yuuri’s worry about lingering, judgy looks (or worse, snickering, pointed fingers and teasing) were a non issue. Besides, Yuuri’s always loved the fair. They went every year, petting all the animals the farmers brought in, riding as many rides as they could fit into the day, and gorging themselves on sickeningly fatty, fried foods. This idea is  _ perfect. _

Or, it would have been if Yuuri wasn’t the actual definition of ‘petty.’ 

The first hour or so was actually going well. Viktor thought he was making headway when Yuuri’s face lit up as they pulled into the parking lot. Yuuri had scrambled to get out of the car, pulling Viktor toward the gates. 

Once in, they rode a couple of rides and ate a couple of Yuuri’s favorite fair foods (Viktor still did  _ not _ understand the appeal of fried butter, but whatever). Viktor had even managed to win a prize for Yuuri before he’d stomped off- a cute, little stuffed vampire. Maybe it was the fangs that pissed him off or something. Viktor isn’t sure.

What he  _ is _ sure about is how absolutely done he is right now. For the last...he’s not even sure how long they’ve been in here, but they’ve been in one of the damn funhouses, specifically the  _ house of mirrors, _ for what feels like  _ ages. _

Yuuri doesn’t seem to be in any rush to continue, methodically checking himself out in every warped mirror. He bends his knees, reaching up high, turning to the side, turning to the  _ other side, _ checks out his ass, dances in the mirror for a while before moving on to the other. Lather, rinse, repeat. He doesn’t even care about the fact that multiple people had already come and gone, passing by with weird looks as Viktor leans against the back wall, arms crossed with an impassive expression, but inside he’s exasperatedly screaming,  _ ‘are you serious?!’ _

He also doesn’t miss the teasing, coy looks Yuuri throws at him, only to close off again when Viktor takes a step closer. He prays to every deity he doesn’t believe in for strength as he follows Yuuri through the (frankly far too elaborate) house. When they reach the room with all the mirrors pointing at each other, Viktor has the wonderful and terrible view of Yuuri’s perfect ass from all angles at once. 

Yuuri starts shaking his ass in some approximation to his old Eros moves, and Viktor shifts uncomfortably as his pants begin feeling a bit too tight. He’s going to lose his damn mind.

\---

Later, when he tries deepening their goodnight kiss, he’s gently but firmly pushed back with a soft, “not today, Akasha.”

Being punished with refusal of sex is...well, it wouldn’t be cruel per se if Yuuri genuinely doesn’t want it. Viktor would never press the issue if it’s anything less than enthusiastic consent. Still, it seems blatantly obvious that Yuuri  _ does _ want it, but is actively withholding it from Viktor as a big middle finger to him.

Over the course of the last few days, Viktor has caught Yuuri jerking off, fucking himself on his fingers, teasing his nipples,  _ calling out his name, _ more than once. When he’d offered to help, Yuuri had told him he could sit there and watch. No touching. No touching Yuuri or himself. No matter how much Yuuri cried out his name in that tone that screamed of begging for Viktor, he wasn’t allowed to touch. No matter how hard and desperate Viktor was, straining in his pants as his fangs dropped and his eyes changed, raised veins dancing and all, he wasn’t allowed to touch. 

He’d even resorted to snacking on a blood bag rather than drinking from his husband just in case the man didn’t want Viktor touching him in that way as well.

This… This is cruel.

\---

The next day, Viktor was even more determined to make things right. 

He got up, got dressed, went out to grab Yuuri a couple of those beignets he seems to like from the shop down the street and returned with a heart-shaped smile and a positive outlook. He wants to make up with his man. He misses Yuuri even more than when he was gone. It was one thing when he was away, missing someone you couldn’t actually reach out and touch. It’s a whole other thing missing someone sitting in the same room.

Looking at Yuuri now, though, he’s starting to feel the weight of frustration pulling his brows into a furrow. Viktor didn’t even know Yuuri owned anything silver. He’s positive he would have seen it (or been burnt by it on accident) by now, but alas. 

There Yuuri sits, nonchalantly reading the paper with silver bracelets adorning his wrists, a silver necklace hanging from his neck, and even a fucking silver ear cuff sitting on the side of his right ear. When he licks his lips, Viktor can see the glimmer of light against silver shining from his  _ silver _ tongue ring. 

Also, did he mention the ‘Werewolves Do It Better’ shirt? What the actual fuck.

“Babe, come  _ ooon,” _ Viktor groans from the kitchen doorway, thunking his head against it in exasperation (and also for a bit of dramatic flair. One does not live 250+ years without an appreciation for dramatic flair).  _ “Please _ talk to me.”

Yuuri just hums something that sounds like a negative, turning the page. Viktor’s eyes narrow in irritation. Yuuri doesn’t even read the sports section. Viktor knows there’s nothing else to do at present. He’s pretty sure Yuuri’s stubbornness is unsurpassed (and Viktor had met Douglas MacArthur). If he’s decided they’re not talking, they’re not talking.

Viktor drops the bag of beignets, throwing his hands up in defeat. He sighs as he slips on his shoes and slinks out the door, heading for the ice arena to clear his head.

\---

When he comes back home, Yuuri’s still in the kitchen (or...is in the kitchen again. Whatever). 

“Honey, I’m home!” He singsongs as he takes off his shoes. 

“In here!” Yuuri calls from the kitchen as if he doesn’t know Viktor could pinpoint his location from at least a mile away. 

Viktor sighs in relief. Yuuri sounded a lot more chipper than he had earlier, and when Viktor walks into the kitchen, he’s greeted with a wide smile. Yuuri’s still wearing that fucking werewolf shirt, but the silver is gone. Viktor breathes in the scent of something delicious wafting from the oven, bready and cheesy with hints of basil, rosemary and oregano tickling his senses until something decidedly acrid floats through. He steps closer to his husband cautiously. “Yuuri? What are we having for dinner?”

Yuuri just tilts his head, smiling a little  _ too _ innocently as he answers with, “Italian.”

Viktor’s jaw drops in disbelief. Surely his beloved wouldn't try to kill him over two little marks on his neck (or the dishes. The jury’s still out on that), right? His fangs unconsciously drop at the burning, pungent smell, and Yuuri’s smile flattens to an unimpressed expression before turning back to the stove, a low crooning sounding as he bangs around the cabinets in search of other spices. 

“Talk to me!” Viktor explodes, and immediately regrets it when Yuuri wheels around to gape at him. He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose- to ward off the oncoming headache and in an attempt to distract him from the scent of his singeing nostril hairs. He sighs, slumping against the counter furthest from his husband. His voice is small when he pleads, “just...talk to me. Please.”

Soft fingers under his chin tilt his face to meet Yuuri’s. He was so deep in his contemplation he hadn’t noticed Yuuri’s approach. His husband is biting his lip, guilt and a hint of regret coloring his face. Yuuri swallows thickly as he pulls Viktor into a hug. Viktor’s arms immediately wrap around the other man, holding as tightly as he dares. He avoids the neck like plague, peppering kisses to the side of Yuuri’s head. If he’s shaking a bit, touch starved and desperate, neither comment on it.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri murmurs against his throat, and Viktor swallows down the urge to attack Yuuri’s mouth with his own.

Instead, he starts rambling. “No,  _ I’m _ sorry. I-I broke Rule #3, and I shouldn’t have. You told me you didn’t want any marks on your neck, and I did it anyway. Even though I love marking you, I know how much you hate all the teasing you-  _ we _ get because of it, and I never should have subjected you to that again. At least it’s autumn, right? You can cover it up as much as you want!” He chokes down the hurt in his voice. He clears his throat. “I love you so much, Yuuri. I would never want to do anything that hurt you...unless you wanted me to,” he leered before shaking it off. “Anyway,-”

Yuuri interrupts with a hand clapped over Viktor’s mouth. He’s smiling, bright and fond and exasperated in the way he always does when Viktor is being a dumbass, and Viktor’s...confused. His brows must give him a way because Yuuri huffs amusedly. 

“I’m not mad about the marks. Mildly annoyed, but not mad.” Yuuri rolls his eyes, his smile dimming into something softer. “You didn’t do the dishes, you asshole. Do you know how long it took me to do them all with our dishwasher broken?”

He removes his hand, and it’s Viktor’s turn to gape. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Yuuri nods, shrugging with an unrepentant smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t have prolonged it  _ this _ much, but I’m so done with you not honoring Rule #4. It’s been years of the same shit! Do the dishes and I’ll call a truce.”

“...Do I have to do tonight’s dishes?” Viktor cringes, and Yuuri’s eyes round comically, waving his hands frantically.

“No, no! You don’t have to hurt yourself.  _ God. _ I’ll just...set these ones aside and do them myself. You just do the rest.” 

Viktor hums, a finger tapping his chin as if he’s really considering his options for a moment, laughing when Yuuri swats his arm. “Deal.”

Viktor cracks open the window above the sink, basking (re: gulping) in the fresh, garlic-less air. He rolls his sleeves to the crooks of his arms, setting out to do the dishes. He’s in a bit of a weird headspace. He’s in a much better mood. His Yuuri’s back! If he’s reading the situation correctly, all he has to do is the dishes and things should go back to normal.

Still, he’s confused. Yuuri seemed baffled by the implication that almost an entire week of pettiness (and cruelly denying him the ability to touch) was because of the bite on his neck. Viktor could still see the healing wound curving over the side, and while he  _ loves _ it, as far as he knows, Yuuri very much doesn’t. Viktor thought it would have been a worse crime than leaving a pile of dishes. Apparently not, and Viktor wants to understand  _ why. _

They work in silence for a while, caught in their own contemplations. Viktor wonders if this could be a lift on the neck marking rule. Again, Viktor would never do anything Yuuri didn’t want (on purpose), but if Yuuri changes his mind, Viktor would be the exact opposite of opposed. If anything, Viktor would be  _ delighted. _

He wonders what Yuuri is thinking about as he catches little glimpses of a pursed lips, furrowed brows and pensive eyes. He asks as much.

“I’m thinking about why you’d think I was mad about you biting my neck.” Yuuri answers, removing the offensive dinner from the oven. 

Viktor chokes for a second on the plumes of garlicky scent washing over him. He coughs to try and dislodge the sudden lump in his throat. Or, wait...is that swelling?  _ Fuck. _

He ignores Yuuri’s panicked cry as he runs out of the house in a flash, desperately taking in the threads of air as he waits for his healing to kick in. Fucking garlic. If there’s one thing he wishes vampire lore had gotten wrong, it was the garlic thing. It acts like a severe peanut allergy some humans have, but about ten times worse considering the added airborne element, and absolutely Viktor hates it. 

He feels a wave of anger at Yuuri crash over him before immediately shaking it off. 

In the beginning, before the reveal, he’d told Yuuri he had a severe garlic allergy, and the young man had made sure there was never even a piece of garlic within a five foot radius. It was sweet, really. Then again, almost everything about his husband is sweet. When he came out with the truth about his vampirism, Yuuri hadn’t even flinched. Looked shocked and more than a little curious, but not scared. The first thing Yuuri had said was, “so  _ that's _ why we can't have Italian.” 

Viktor smiles a bit ruefully at the memory considering he’s now struggling to catch his breath because of some damn  _ Italian. _

Yuuri couldn't have known how serious the garlic thing is. It's not like there’s widespread information about vampires yet, so Viktor doesn't actually blame Yuuri almost choking him to death.

He’s just gotten back to something like normal when he hears a loud crash from the back of the house. Instantly, he's on alert. He covers his mouth and nose with his shirt, zipping into the house as quick as his abilities allow, fangs dropped and ready to tear into whatever threat is posed. He stops short when he sees Yuuri.

He's crying, red-faced and snotty. Viktor can practically feel the guilt and sorrow rolling off of him, and Viktor would collect Yuuri in his arms if he wasn't speeding around the house, turning off the oven and stove, opening all of their windows, turning on every fan, spraying the room with air freshener, lighting a candle and...trying to burn the scent out? Viktor stopped him after he was positive that there wasn’t any actual danger and that his husband was physically okay.

“Yuuri, what was that sound?” He asks, still looking around for a sign as he retracts his fangs.

“I...may have thrown the lasagna out. Pan and all.” Yuuri shuffles in place, eyes downcast, scratching the back of his neck in a way that takes Viktor back to the early days of Awkward Yuuri. 

Viktor raises a brow. “Sounded a bit too loud to have been thrown in the trash.”

“Well, that's probably because I didn't throw it in the trash.” When he notices Viktor’s confusion, he elaborates. “I, I panicked and I may have...thrown the whole thing outside.”

Viktor blinks rapidly as he processes what Yuuri just said, and then promptly bursts into a fit of laughter. He goes over to the window, laughing harder when he sees the mess of broken glass and pasta scattered over the back driveway. That’s going to have to be powerwashed. He leans against the window as he wipes incredulous tears from the corners of his eyes. The scent of garlic still floats in the air, but it’s significantly lessened, just a whisper on the breeze floating in- an itch at the back of his throat rather than a vice around it. Eventually his peals of laughter die down, and he turns back to a mortified Yuuri. 

Yuuri looks shrunken in on himself, shoulders curled inward, head tilted down and to the side, eyes to the floor. Viktor frowns at the smaller visage of the man he loves. He stands before Yuuri, reaching up to cup the smaller man’s cheeks. He ducks down to meet the other’s eyes with a fond smile.

“You know, we’re both pretty stupid.” Viktor remarks, and Yuuri’s eyes widen.

A teary chuckle escapes Yuuri, and Viktor’s smile widens. “I'm so sorry, Vitya. I went way too far with this.”

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” Viktor smirks playfully.

“What’s that?”

“We add ‘No More Fucking Garlic’ as Big Rule #5.”

\---

That night, after Yuuri’s anal retentive fit of making sure every molecule of garlic was out of the house, Yuuri finally lets Viktor touch him.

“I think this was the worst part of these last few days. Not being able to just touch you,” Viktor breathes as he trails his fingers over Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri bites his lip on an amused huff. “Almost dying wasn’t the worst part?”

“Mmm no. Your garlic assault lasted for less than an hour. I’ve been dying to touch you for days.” Viktor smiles cheekily, and Yuuri groans through a laugh.

“You’re the actual worst.”

“You love me.” Viktor states confidently.

Yuuri softens, warmth and affection shining from his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Viktor yelps as Yuuri suddenly flips them, looming over him with a leer that sends a bolt of heat through him. Yuuri presses a quick kiss to Viktor’s lips, backing away when he tries to deepen it. 

“Shh, just lay back,” Yuuri whispers in his ear, and he shudders as teeth graze the lobe. 

Viktor follows directions and even though the itch at his palms and fingertips beg to dig into Yuuri’s flesh, he makes do with digging them into the sheets. He wants to run his fingers through that soft hair, and he wants to pull the younger man against him until he’s not sure where he ends and Yuuri begins, and he wants to pour every ounce of desperation and how much he  _ missed _ his husband and his apologies into the air between his and Yuuri’s lips, and he wants to push his hardening cock between Yuuri’s thick thighs, and he wants Yuuri’s lips wrapped around him, and-  _ Oh. _

In his frustrated contemplation, he’d only vaguely paid attention to the peppered kisses here and there in a direct line down to his hips. Yuuri makes quick work of his jeans and underwear, throwing them off to the side, paying no mind to where they landed. Viktor’s gasps, his cock twitches as Yuuri’s warm breath washes over him. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Yuuri admits breathlessly, and Viktor can’t help but laugh incredulously.

_ “You’ve _ missed this? Do you know how hard it was watching you fuck yourself, calling out for me, and not being allowed to touch you?” Viktor ground out as Yuuri ran the backs of his nails up his stomach, pushing the shirt out of the way.

“That was… Shut up,” Yuuri flushes deeply, rolling his eyes. “You needed to be punished,” he adds, smirking wolfishly at Viktor’s sharp inhale. “You know, I think you liked it more than you admit.”

Viktor could hardly think with Yuuri’s lips pressing delicate, barely-there kisses to the head of his cock. His legs spread of their own volition, trembling just a little, needy and shameless. He’s the king of shameless, really, ever ready for the simple pleasures life has to offer, and there’s no pleasure he loves more than the man he loves between his legs. Not to mention the fact that Viktor’s sex drive has always been ridiculously high, then throw in the vampirism  _ and _ being touch-starved for almost two full weeks...yeah, he’s a-okay with being fucking shameless about his needs.

He bites his lip raw as just the very tip of Yuuri’s tongue teases in a line from base to tip, the silvery ball of his tongue ring gleaming in the low light. A tease for what’s to come. And _ god, _ Viktor loves that tongue ring. 

When they’d first come into fashion, he honestly didn’t get it. Why would you want to pierce your tongue? Why would you want to hurt yourself  _ there? _ The healing process alone looked awful, and the horrifying risk of tongue paralysis turned Viktor off of it. Besides, why would you want to pierce something that no one would see without you showing it off? What was the point? 

The point, he’d learned much later in his life thus far, was usually for an added little bonus in the bedroom. Sure, some did it for aesthetic (and that was fine), but  _ fuck, _ did Viktor love it pressed against his flesh. He’s come to crave the feeling of that stud over his body, a contrast of texture and friction. Viktor remembers the first time he’d felt it against him, remembers how surprised he was that it wasn’t colder (looking back, he admits that was stupid- it’s a metal ring inside the warmth of a mouth, but whatever). It was, for lack of a better word,  _ amazing. _ Sometimes Yuuri put in a textured stud, adding even more intensity to the experience. One memorable time, a vibrating one (Viktor had come embarrassingly quickly, red-faced and looking fucked out in less than six minutes. Also amazing). 

Now, he waits impatiently, legs spread even wider, thighs veritably shaking in anticipation, and fingers grasping tighter into the sheets. He feels his fangs drop in response to Yuuri’s playful wink, his tongue dropped to obscenely lick a wide stripe up his cock-

Viktor hisses as he tears himself away, a loud string of pained curses spilling from his lips as he scrambles away from his husband. He grabs his wilting cock in his hand, squeezing to do  _ something _ about the line to pure fire along the underside. He looks at his burning cock and then Yuuri incredulously, and wonders just what the hell he did to deserve  _ this. _

He’s about to ask Yuuri as such when he notices the tears edging along the bottom rim of his husband’s wide, shocked eyes. Yuuri looks down at himself like his own body has betrayed him, sputtering over a choked apology.

“I-I-I’m so,  _ so _ sorry, Vitya! I-  _ fuck. _ I  _ knew _ I was forgetting something. That  _ fucking _ silver stud. I-I knew it was a bad idea. Oh my god,” Yuuri claps a shaky hand over his mouth to physically stem his rambling, eyes clenched tight in regret, tears spilling over, and all at once the anger rushes out of Viktor.

“It’s, it’s fine,” Viktor reassures through a forced smile. He’s not sure he succeeds based on the misery still burning through Yuuri’s eyes. He honestly kind of feels like his dick is going to split in half where the silver stud burned a path, but he’s not about to let on to that fact. At least not actively. It’s not his fault Yuuri can read him like a book. Yuuri throws him an exasperated look before his eyes drop to where he’s still got his dick clenched in his fist. The resulting gasp isn’t encouraging. 

_ “Shit, _ Viktor,” Yuuri gapes. “I- W-what can I do? This looks- it looks  _ bad.” _

Viktor tries to shrug it off and smile, but it comes out as more of a shaky grimace. “Not really much to do except wait for the healing to kick in.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuuri that this will leave a scar. A very permanent scar. It’d just make the younger man feel worse than he already clearly does. Besides, maybe it won’t be so bad. At the very least, his dick will have a cool, new racing stripe. 

“Let’s just, ah...let’s call it a night and try again some other time,” Viktor suggests, wincing as he pulls off his shirt before gingerly laying down. 

His attempt to pull Yuuri down with him is shrugged off, and he frowns, hurt, as Yuuri leaves the room in a rush. He doesn’t have time for the hurt to bury itself too deeply because Yuuri is back within a few minutes with a sheepish smile, waving the first aid kit in his hand.

“I changed my tongue ring. Threw the silver one in the trash,” Yuuri explains, sitting down beside Viktor who’s taken to laying on his side, one leg propped up as the other rests on the bed in an attempt to give his cock some air. Yuuri frowns. “I, I never wanted to hurt you, so...I’m going to patch you up as best I can.” 

Viktor smiles softly as he reaches for Yuuri, who folds into his arms without hesitation. His lips just brush Yuuri’s, a short slide of warm, soft lips against his, before the other man sits up suddenly.

“I was serious about patching you up. Stop distracting me,” Yuuri scolds, but there’s a playful edge and it makes Viktor feel dopey all over again for his absolutely endearing dork.

Viktor settles back onto the bed, content to let Yuuri do his thing. He doesn’t tell Yuuri that it genuinely isn’t necessary. He can already feel the skin begin to heal, and if Yuuri would take a second to look,  _ really look, _ he’d probably be able to  _ see _ it. 

He watches as Yuuri snaps on a pair of latex gloves, the sound  _ does things _ to Viktor, watches as Yuuri roots around the kit for an antibiotic (which is also fucking adorable- Viktor hasn’t needed an antibiotic in his 252 and a half years), watches as Yuuri observes him. He licks his lips as Yuuri gently touches his cock, hissing at the sensitivity. He’s just thankful it isn’t a searing slice of pain anymore. His cock gives a valiant twitch under his husband’s gaze, earning him a raised eyebrow and an amused twitch at the corners of Yuuri’s mouth. 

“Hmm...already almost completely healed,” Yuuri remarks, and Viktor will never get over how fascinated and reverent Yuuri sounds when he’s observing Viktor’s abilities.

Viktor’s not prepared for the way Yuuri’s eyes sharpen as they cut to his, or the way Yuuri’s small smile stretches to a devastating smirk, or the way Yuuri’s body does this odd, intoxicating little shudder, like he’s preparing for his Eros routine, or the way Yuuri purposefully traces a finger over the line he’d made on Viktor’s cock, causing him to curse and stumble over a centuries-old dialect that doesn’t even exist anymore. He’s not prepared for the tips of the excess latex over Yuuri’s fingertips tickling and exploring the head of his cock, down his length, over his balls. He’s not prepared for the the way Yuuri looks at him through his lashes as he snakes down Viktor’s body. He’s not prepared for the hard grip at his hips, manhandling him until he’s lying flat on his back.

Viktor’s already past half-mast when he feels the ghost of Yuuri’s warm breath dancing over him. He’s almost completely hard when Yuuri snaps off his gloves.

“Is this okay, or do you want to go to bed?” Yuuri asks, a thread of concern shining through his sultry tone, and Viktor already feels like he can hardly breathe. 

“N-no! No, I really, I really want your mouth on me, Yuuri,  _ ple-” _ and cuts off into a long, broken moan as Yuuri sucks the head of his cock into that perfect mouth. Suddenly, Viktor’s harder than he’s been in almost two weeks. 

Viktor fucking  _ keens _ as Yuuri hollows his cheeks on his way down, surrounding Viktor’s cock in the familiar, flawless heat. He revels at the smooth, hard slide of that fucking stud in contrast with the soft texture of tongue as it laps at the beads of precome before slithering down that fucking line, oversensitive and hot, pulling as much of his cock into that mouth as he can. Yuuri’s hands run over every inch of Viktor he can reach, a hint of nails scratching rose-colored lines into porcelain skin, and Viktor’s body sings under each biting grip. 

Yuuri pops off suddenly, and Viktor whines from loss. He feels the plea working up his throat, cutting short as Yuuri sets to biting bruises and hickeys over the lines he’s made. He laves at Viktor’s sensitive thighs, pushing at them until Viktor’s spread as far as he can go, obscene under Yuuri’s dark eyes. Viktor feels overheated and intoxicated on the salacious grins and the sexy, little growls spilling from Yuuri’s lips if he even so much as  _ tried _ to touch his neglected cock.  _ Fuck, _ did Viktor mention he missed this?

“You know, I almost don’t feel bad about this,” Yuuri said, confidence drawn from pleasing Viktor so thoroughly, running a finger along the silver-burnt line.

“O-oh yeah? And why,  _ ah shit, _ why’s that?” Viktor stammers, too far gone to care about tripping over his words.

“You leave marks on me all the time. This is the only one I’ve left that hasn’t immediately disappeared.” Yuuri says breathlessly. “I-I can see where you’re, uh, where you’re coming from with the whole m-marking thing,” he admits, flushing deeply as Viktor’s fangs drop. 

“You like marking me, Yuuri?” Viktor pants deliriously, slurring over his fangs as his cock jumps at the reminder that while the pain sucked, it was temporary and it was  _ so _ worth it to be marked back. 

Yuuri forces the air from Viktor’s lungs when suddenly, his nose is resting along Viktor's pubic bone, his throat fluttering around the wide head of Viktor’s cock as he swallows around it. Viktor’s not sure if there’s a god out there, but he’s certain the closest he’s ever felt to a religion is when he’s nestled deep inside Yuuri Katsuki. His eyes roll back, hands finding their way into black hair, as just a suggestion of teeth graze over him, wrenching him toward the precipice of his release.

Viktor feels like he can’t pull in enough air as Yuuri picks up the pace, sucking hard and deep, shoving himself down Viktor’s cock in a way that would concern him if it weren’t for the deep groans reverberating through him. Viktor’s thighs tense, his torso curling upward as he clenches his fingers deep into Yuuri’s hair, fangs dropped and eyes dark in the way only a vampire can achieve. 

He gasps out a garbled mess of, “I’mgonnacome, Yuuri,  _ fuck, _ I’m gonna-” melting into a broken cry as Yuuri just pushes himself down further. Viktor revels in the feel of Yuuri’s throat dancing over his pulsing cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him. Yuuri’s always so fucking  _ good, _ swallowing every drop of his come, sucking him hard on the way up in a way that makes Viktor tear into the sheets (so he doesn’t tear into the flesh of Yuuri’s head) as his eyes roll back. When Yuuri pulls off, he gives little kitten licks to the head of Viktor’s spent cock until Viktor sobs, babbling about ‘too much’ and ‘so fucking good’ and ‘I love you so goddamn much’ and ‘I can’t.’

He lays there for a moment to recuperate before his mind reboots, using his vampire speed and strength to flip them, looming over his husband with a dangerous smirk. 

Usually, humans react to the danger of a vampire’s fangs and darkened eyes, deep, blood red overtaking the sclera, darkened, raised veins dancing under them, with, at the very least, trepidation or, at most, outright terror. Yuuri, though? From the first time he’d shown Yuuri what he was, his reaction was categorical arousal.

Like now. Yuuri’s owlish eyes, pupils already dilated, now blow almost entirely black, only a faint sliver of cinnamon-chocolate brown bordering them. Yuuri’s flush deepens, suffusing up to his ears and down to his heaving chest. His mouth drops open, the scent of Viktor’s come dancing in the air between them. Yuuri, who had managed to stay almost completely dressed this whole time, is straining in his sleep pants and Viktor is gracious enough to remove the offending garment. He takes one look at that fucking werewolf shirt and promptly tears it off Yuuri’s body. Literally.

Yuuri sputters, “t-that wasn’t even mine!”

And suddenly Viktor freezes over Yuuri’s stomach, slowly tilting his gaze back to Yuuri’s. “Whose was it?”

“Y-Yurio’s,” Yuuri gulps, and Viktor huffs, relaxing immediately. 

“Yurio’s a cat person anyway. He only got that to irritate me.” Viktor says between delicate kisses into Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and Viktor nuzzles his mirroring smile into Yuuri’s chest.

“Sounds counterintuitive considering Yurio’s a vampire too,” Yuuri hums, and Viktor laughs. 

“You’d think, but he’ll wear, do and say anything if he’s feeling spiteful enough.

He cuts whatever Yuuri was about to say off with his lips, relishing in the groan as Yuuri wraps his legs around Viktor’s waist. Nails bite and scratch into Viktor’s back as he grinds down into Yuuri, cock hardening once again as it slides against his husband’s precome-slick length. One of Yuuri's hands cards into the back of Viktor’s hair, tearing a moan from him as he pulls Viktor back.

“T-touch me, Vitya,” Yuuri whispers against his lips, desperate, and who is Viktor to ignore such a request?

He reaches down between them, propped up on one hand beside Yuuri’s head, wrapping his large hand around them both. He uses Yuuri’s precome to make the friction less harsh. He screws up his eyes as Yuuri bucks up into him, setting a slow, intense rhythm. When he opens his eyes again, he almost loses it then and there.

Yuuri’s eyes have gone just a touch glassy as Viktor twists his hand over their cocks, broken Japanese spilling from Yuuri’s lips as the rosy tint to his cheeks intensifies. Viktor knows he can make out ‘I love you so much’ and ‘I want this forever’ and ‘more, more,  _ more,’ _ but there are things he can’t translate, and it’s equally frustrating and searingly hot knowing he can make Yuuri forget to use words Viktor can understand. Viktor picks up the pace, setting a more punishing rhythm and one of Yuuri’s hands joins Viktor’s, tight and fucking  _ perfect _ and Viktor wants to see Yuuri come  _ now. _

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Viktor pants, and Yuuri’s eyes crack open from where they’ve been slammed closed, lost in the pleasure of rocking into one another. Yuuri mumbles something Viktor can’t quite make out, looking away and to the side in a way that shows off that goddamned biteable neck. Viktor shakes off the temptation rushing through him. “What? I didn’t catch that.” And it’s like a dam is broken.

“B-bite me, Vitya. Fuck,  _ please, please, _ Vitya. On-on the neck. Like last time.  _ Please,” _ Yuuri begs, and Viktor stops everything, frozen in disbelief as he looks down at the man he loves, the man who implemented Big Rule #3 which, might Viktor remind you, is the rule that says  _ no biting on the neck. _

“What happened to Rule #3?” He asks incredulously, crushing down the rising hope, ignoring Yuuri’s whining protests. 

“Fuck Rule #3,” Yuuri growls with  _ feeling, _ and Viktor’s feels overwhelmed. “I-I was- That was  _ five years ago. _ We were still pretty new when I made that rule. I want it now. I want to wear your mark, and I want it right fucking  _ now.” _

And  _ shit, _ Yuuri was playing dirty. He tilted his head to the side and up, elongating that long, pale neck. He was a vision of submission save for the pleading eyes catching on his and  _ god, _ Viktor was more than willing to give in. 

He made a show of letting his eyes grow dark, veins shifting under the thin skin under them, the bloodlust coming out in the way the whites of his eyes flush deep red, making the icy blue of his eyes stand out even further. He lets his fangs drop, sharp and threatening, and licks over them in a way that makes Yuuri shudder underneath him. He smirks at the quiet gasp as he trails his teeth over the curve of Yuuri’s neck.

He wraps his arms under Yuuri, picking him up with ease and settling him up in his lap. Yuuri grips into his back as he presses his own kisses into the side of Viktor’s face- cheek, jaw, chin, temple, those vampiric veins, anywhere he can reach- before Viktor tilts his head just so.

“Are you sure about this,  _ moya lyubov?” _ Viktor asks, voice strained as his fangs brush over Yuuri’s carotid artery, begging to dip in, to tear into skin and artery like a hot knife through butter. 

A choked, “yes,” is all it takes for Viktor to sink into Yuuri. 

VIktor will never, not even in a thousand millennia, get over the way Yuuri tastes. He groans low and overwhelmed at the flavor. Satonishiki cherries. Raw wildflower honey. Something heavy like clove. A bit of pepper. Something like petrichor, if it had an actual taste. Yuuri is the sweetest, headiest ambrosia Viktor has ever had the pleasure of tasting, and he doesn’t think he’ll  _ ever _ get enough. Not even when- no.  _ If. _ Viktor wouldn’t force it on him.  _ If _ Yuuri decides to become a vampire someday, his blood will change, but Viktor has no doubt in his mind he’ll still love it more than any other being’s in this universe. It’s like Yuuri’s blood is  _ made _ to dance along Viktor’s tastebuds. 

He savors one pull, two pulls, three pulls, and stops. He never takes more than he needs, and he never takes enough to actually hurt Yuuri. Not that he would be opposed to taking enough to make Yuuri a little weak, a little out of it, a little more pliant, but...that was a discussion for another time. He pushes his saliva into the punctures, a coagulant to help aid in healing. He pulls back a bit, sucking the skin into his mouth, cleaning Yuuri’s neck of the excess blood. 

When he pulls away entirely, his eyes close in bliss for a moment as Yuuri’s blood sings through his veins. He feels more settled, more stable, lighter, giddier, warmer,  _ better. _ He absolutely wants to ride this high forever.

He opens his eyes to an equally blissed out Yuuri, and it catches him off guard until he takes in his surroundings. Drinking blood can put the blinders on so tight that he can’t think of anything but the electric rush of feeding, so it always takes him a bit to reorient himself back into the present. When he does, he feels the hot spill of his come. Coming while feeding wasn’t exactly abnormal so...no surprise there, but what  _ did _ surprise him was Yuuri’s come mixed in as well. Yuuri had to have come untouched just from Viktor biting him because both of his husband’s hands are still gripped tight into his shoulders. He smells the mix of them clearly like a wave crashing over him, and he fucking  _ loves _ it.   
  
He stares at Yuuri in wonderment, forever grateful to the Fates that Yuuri loves him. He pulls his husband into a kiss, and melts into it when Yuuri doesn’t seem disgusted by the tang of blood on his lips. They pour into one another, a gentle, loving back and forth, a give and take that Viktor had convinced himself for  _ years _ that he would never have. He grips Yuuri into his arms as tight as he dares, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against the other’s, to just dwell in this moment, and to thank whatever deities that may or may not exist that he forgot to do the dishes.

**Author's Note:**

> \- The song mentioned is by [A R I Z O N A](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ys5LavVG7Ok).  
> \- "Akasha" is a reference to Queen of the Damned, vampire queen  
> \- Moya lyubov - "my love" 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! Comments and kudos give me life. <3


End file.
